Archive for the ‘Art’ Category


Take one look at this lovely 1920’s cloche hat I found on the vintage fashion blog OMG that dress!

1920's Cloche Hat

Cloche Hat, 1920s, The Goldstein Museum of Design
Image via OMG that dress!

It can’t be just me that thinks George Lucas or someone in costume design for Star Wars Episode IV, must surely have seen this hat before giving Carrie Fisher those cinnamon bun hairpieces!

Image via Wookieepedia, the STAR WARS Wiki


I don’t put much stock in appearance. As you can see by this photo, I wear what I like and what is comfortable. Things don’t always match, much to the chagrin of my kids, even as adults today.

This post was inspired by The Daily Prompt

Southwest in the Sky

Image by ReloVertigo 2014

We are almost finished with the paperwork side of the purchase end of our relocation. We have only to wait for the closing, now, which will happen in February. But I’m already looking forward to our long-term future. What will we be doing months from now? I know what I’d like to be doing. Vacation. It’s unlikely that Mr ReloVertigo will be able to take time off with me so soon. Daughter may simply have to substitute as Leisure Companion. By July, it will be sweltering along the Mississippi River. It may be a good time for a flight to a certain haunted hotel in the Rocky Mountains. Hmmm…

Big Sky Missouri

Image by ReloVertigo 2014


Big Sky isn’t just for Montana. As I drove north out of Missouri, the sunny blue sky was oppressive to my migrainey head.

Mississippi River in Winter

Image by ReloVertigo 2014


From beautiful morning yesterday, to cold, snowy, blustery today. The Mississippi River looks deadly cold, viewed from Le Claire, Iowa.

Mississippi River on a Sunny January Morning

Image by Relovertigo 2014


The beauty of the sun’s reflection on the Mississippi River in the morning, viewed from Le Claire, Iowa.

If you ever find yourself hanging over the side of a rowboat on a foggy night, with your face inches from the water’s surface, telling your companions, “There’s something down there. I can’t…quite…see it…” Do not, I repeat, do NOT turn your face to look at your buddies, just to emphasize your point. Because that is always precisely when the Killer From The Deep reaches up and rips you out of the boat by the face, with one creepy, slimy, and extremely waterlogged hand. This is but one of the multitude of life saving lessons I’ve learned just by watching movies.


I’m late posting today. Heck, I’m late writing today. I may actually post this tomorrow, which would be the wee hours of Saturday, November 23rd. Sorry, Charlie, but I do what I can. And what I did tonight was see Junior ReloVertigo, Baby and Fiancée all together, with us at dinner. And then, I was so happy, I pulled out my laptop and started writing again.

Uh…confession: I was a little over ten thousand words into my NaNoWriMo project, when I got sick. I was ill, and not in the “You be illin” way. Not the migraine kind of sick, the acky-pookie kind. For non-Americans and those without children, that means illness that would cause things to purge from various bodily orifices. Sorry you asked? See why I prefer “acky-pookie”? Oh, you didn’t ask? Sorry. You may have needed to know.

Anyway, I didn’t write while I was so ill. Then, when I was better, I couldn’t make myself pick up the laptop. I would look at it, and feel nauseated just looking at it. I would recall where I’d left off in my story, and try to imagine where I would pick up, what would happen next, and my mind would just freeze. It’s pretty hard to make a woman’s mind go completely blank. We always have multiple things in there at once. But this really did make me say to myself, “Nope. Got nothin’.” That was scary. Those of you who’ve been with me long enough will recall that I said at the beginning of NaNoWriMo that I really wanted to finish. I want to be a winner (I’m already a winner, but I mean as they deem it) by writing fifty thousand words. Since I’d stopped at just over ten thousand, you can imagine how I started to feel as the days wore on, and I still hadn’t picked up that laptop.

Mr ReloVertigo would ask me every day how the writing was going. He was excited, and felt like he had become part of the process. He’d already contributed a plot twist, and really wanted to see this work come to its fruition. And every day, I’d be ashamed to say I hadn’t written. He’d be disappointed, I could tell. But he never, ever voiced it. He’d be so encouraging, so supportive. Of course, he didn’t know that the more supportive he became, the worse I felt.

But then, tonight happened. I don’t really know what occurred in my psyche, or my gut, heart, or wherever the courage to try again originates. But when we got home from our family meal, I walked in, took off my jacket, grabbed the MacBook, made coffee, and started typing. I only got in about 1,400 words tonight, but it’s a start. I tapped the keg, and the words are flowing again. I can feel that tomorrow, the story is going to grow and grow, and I really don’t even want to go to bed. Except Junior will be dropping Baby off for me to watch, somewhere between 6:00 and 6:30 AM. Holy cats, Batman! That’s early.

So, tonight I rest. And tomorrow I write again. Thanks for hanging with me, Friendly Reader. I like having you at my side. Like a trusty sidekick. Maybe I’ll find a way to fit you into my book. Hmm. How would I do that??

In the town where I live, there is a major thoroughfare that ribbons north and south, making it fairly easy to get to opposite ends of town without much fuss. If you’re in a real hurry, you can take one of the three-digit jobbies that encircle our burgh. Tonight I was on that north-south strip, and headed for the grocery. As I tooled along, listening to my tunes, I came to a disturbing conclusion.

Driving and listening to Miserlou by Dick Dale makes me want to drive very fast, while shooting a gun in the air. Now, for my non-USA friends, I am in a part of the country where owning pretty much any kind of firearm is perfectly legal. Of course, I own no guns, and wouldn’t even let Mr ReloVertigo keep his in our home, when we first moved in together over twenty-two years ago. But that is not keeping me from the spirit of, for some bizarro-world reason, wanting to do this. Heck, I don’t own a convertible, and I’m not left handed, which would mean I couldn’t hang my arm out the window, and I’d have to shoot holes through the hard top of my beloved little car as I zoomed through town, weaving in and out of traffic. What the frack, Friendly Reader? That would not do. Not do, at all.

One of my favorite cities, in fact my favorite city of all, is Chicago. I love that it’s so big and so bold, so bad, it doesn’t need a last name. Everybody in the world knows what you’re talking about when you say, “Oh, yeah, so we were in Chicago, and blah blah blah blahdy blabbity blah.” They will simply nod and think about the Sears Tower. Yes, I know the name changed, but I’ve turned into my parents, and it’s just going to be the Sears tower until I die. Maybe I’ll be lucky like my parents were with Russia, and the name will eventually go back to what I’ve been calling it all along. It could happen. Anywho, the traffic in and around Chicago is a joy. Especially if you accidentally find yourself smack in the middle of downtown at 5:00 PM on a weekday. Let me tell you, cabbies will cut ya for a fare. Cut you off, that is. I swear that they will go zero to at least fifty across three lanes of one way traffic for a guy who looks like he might want a cab.

I should never listen to Miserlou while driving in Chicago.

I know you all have your favorite driving music. Or, even favorite music that you shouldn’t listen to while driving. I’d like to hear about that. Tell me about you!


Like the title of this post? That’s about as poetic as I get. I hate poetry. I know, most of those that read this will be writers also, so I’m running the risk of offending a poet. But, poets – wherefore art thou? I have always loved Shakespeare. I loved Dante, or more specifically, his Divine Comedy, which I know is technically poetry, but the English translations I’ve read don’t feel like it to me. Regular, modern day stuff though? Uh-uh. And what’s that Japanese one we had to do in school? Haiku! Yes, that’s the one. I get a Grumpy Cat face, just thinking about that.